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BIRDIE BAXTER CLARKE. 



LITTLE 
RIMES OF THE GARRISON 

-BY- 

BIRDIE BAXTER CLARKE. 

With Photographic Illustrations by the Author. 



1909 

FRANKLIN HUDSON PRESS 

Kansas City, Mo. 






Copyright 1909 by 

Franklin Hudson Publishing Company 

Kansas City, Missouri 



^' 



©CU2fl58'.8 



To My Captain, Mv Children, 

AND THE 

Enlisted Men of the Service, 
These Little Rimes are Dedicated. 



Birdie Baxter Clarke 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 1 1 



INDEX 

Acrostic Tu the Flag 15 

Little Rimes of the Garrison. 

Army Fever 17 

When the Big Guns Shoot 19 

Fate's Foibles 23 

The Engineer's Christmas Dream 25 

Mrs. Casey's Proposal 29 

Hushabye 3 ^ 

The Little Top Sergeant 33 

The Bugler's Valentine 39 

Winter in the Old Fort 37 

Leap Year Acrostic 4 ^ 

When "Dixie" Played 43 

An Impromptu Fourth 45 

A Toast to the Ninth Torpedo Company, C. A. C, 

Christmas, 1907 49 

The Soldier's New Year 51 

When "Fire Call" Blows ". 53 

Plantin' Mines — A Toast to the Ninth Mine Company, 

C. A. C, 1908 57 

"Mess Call" 63 

"Overcoats" 65 

Fortress Monroe 67 

The Soldier's Farewell 69 

Character "Fair" 71 



12 Little Rimes of the Garrison. 

INDEX — Continued. 

Sally and the Sentry 73 

Sergeant Dave 75 

The Regular Army Wife 77 

Little Rimes of the Camp. 

A Bum Bugler 79 

The Passing of the Transport • 81 

Encamped 87 

"Stub's" Request 89 

The Limerick Militaire. 

Some Lost Chevrons 91 

From a Private Jolonel 91 

Left Behind 93 

A Slight Mistake 93 

In the Mine Company 95 

Out of vSight, Out of Danger 95 

Discovered 97 

The Fate of O'vShannon 97 

Rejected 99 

Asleep at the Switch ( Boa d) 9g 

Doing Time in 

Over the Hill i 01 

The Sprint of the Sprinter it>3 

Marooned 103 

Disappointed 105 

Rescued 105 

Righteously Indignant 107 

Her Reason 107 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 13 

INDEX— CoN'TiNUED. 

Little "Kids" of the Garrison. 

When Sergeant Joe Goes on Parade 1 1 1 

A Garrison Lullaby 113 

Guard-House Tom 117 

Christmas on the Garrison 121 

An Army Tot's vSoliloquy 125 

Environment 127 

The Provo' 131 

The Recruit 135 

The Baby Bugler 137 

Finis 139 



Little Rimes of the Garrisofi, 







-^M 






A 
M 



vSTARRY emblem greets our eyes, 

that marked a wondrous nation's rise. 



ID drizzling show'rs and beaming sun, 
it waved o'er vict'ries proudly won. 

MBLE:M of Hope and Truth full strong— 
1 of Right triumphant over Wrong — 

OLLED thy soft waves on breezes bright, 
to bless the dying hero's sight. 

N days of gloom each rosy band 
like sunrise glory kiss'd the land. 

lAN aught inglorious stain thy bars, 

or brand of tyrant quench thy stars? 

H, no! In triumph shalt thou wave 
o'er victor's home — e'er hero's grave. 

[Courtesy ''Army and Naiy Life."] 



R 

I 

c 

A 




Little Rimes of the Garrison. 17 



[''Army and Navy Life,'' January, 1909.] 

ARMY FEVER. 

When your first long hitch is over, and you 've cashed your 

finals few, 
And a breakfast and a boat-ride are all that 's left for you. 
And you toy with your collar, as you don your suit of "cits," 
While your bunkie, sitting near you, has the bluest kind of fits; 
You are bubbling o'er with pleasure at the thought of going out ; 
The friends at home will welcome you, of that there 's not 

a doubt; 
And it never seems to strike you, that you 've made a beaten 

track. 
In these years you 've been a soldier — 

That you might come back! 

So you hasten out as "Boat Call" blows — last call you have 

to stand — 
And you wave farewell to comrades as you push away from land . 
"First Call " for drill is sounding from the bugle's throat of gold. 
But you are free — "don't have to stand no drills in heat and 

cold"; 



1 8 Little Rimes of the Garrison. 

Altho' you get to wondering, as these scenes fade from sight, 

If drilHng really was so bad, and walking post at night. 

You think, of course, when first discharged one feels just sort 

o' sad; 
But it 's army fever symptoms — 

And you 'ue got 'em bad. 

You 're in business on the outside, and you 're making good^ 

it seems; 
But the bugle keeps a-calling, and a-calling thro' your dreams. 
Then some day you meet a soldier out on furlough for a week, 
And you think it only friendly to go up to him and speak ; 
And you find you know his brother, or his cousin, or his friend, 
And your job upon the outside has found a sudden end ; 
For a longing fierce comes o'er you that your soul can not 

resist — 
It 's the crisis of the fever — 

And you re-enlist! 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



19 




I 've done a hitch or two myself at soldierin' around, 
In Boston Harbor, Hampton Roads, Frisco, Puget Sound, 
And out near Salt Lake City, upon the mountain shelf, 
Was with the 2 2d field and liked to spread myself 
A-doin' stunts at monkey drill to make the fellers hoot; 
But them small field guns ain't nothin' 

When the big guns shoot. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 




You are in a snug range station a-takin' splash and time, 
And up to see the war display observe the ladies climb ! 
It 's fun to see them hold their ears so tight whene'er the guns 
Are climbing up in battery, in weight some fifty tons; 
A-feelin' scared for them to fire, and then begin to scoot, 
For you 'd think creation busted 

When the big guns shoot! 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



21 





- -^ '^^ 



The twelve-inch gun 's a beauty ! It 's a great sight, you can bet, 
To see her come in battery above the parapet, 
A-belchin' forth her fire and smoke in one great awful flash; 
When you look out toward the target, you can see a geyser 

splash, 
And out beyond another; it 's a ricochet to boot. 
Things are going some at soldierin' 

When the big guns shoot ! 



22 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



AK^ ^OUR PAY 




— JaL C?yr/*\AN (IS- 



Oh; it 's fine to be a soldier! Why, man, don't you enhst? 
It 's money in your pockets, and it 's better, I insist, 
Than huntin' 'round to find a job when none ain't to be had. 
And your pay is always comin' whether times are good or bad. 
You can see 'most all your country; you can't vegetate, take 

root ; 
Uncle Sanmi}" keeps you movin' 

Where his big guns shoot ! 
[Co uvtesy ' ' Bostoyt Herald. "] 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 23 



FATE'S FOIBLES.* 

IN THE VOLUNTEER CAMP. 

M}^ lady gay, on a dapple gray, 

Rode down to the beach at the close of day. 

The sun had sunk in the crimson west; 

His couch in royal splendor drest. 

Behind rode a soldier, trim, sedate; 

They rode along toward the Golden Gate. 

Her tresses of yellow were all flung back. 

And his of ebon curled short and black. 

Her skin was fair, of rose and cream, 

His had the rich deep bronze's gleam; 

Her eyes were blue as the summer sea. 

And his were dark, as dark as could be. 

He loved her so ! You could tell it fair 

By his gentle look and tender care. 

But they couldn't get married at all! Oh no! 

Such things in the Army wouldn't go! 

A captain's daughter of high degree 

Could never wed with the orderlv! 



*The author has known of several officers of the regular service 
who have served as privates of volunteers, and also one or two instances 
where men who are at present enlisted in the regular service have served 
as officers of volunteers. — B. B. C. 



24 Little RiMWS* oj /A* Garhscm, 



SOME YEARS LATER AT A REGULAR GARRISOX. 

A few A-ears older is each to-da> . 
Mayhap each head has some threads of gray 
Tho' youth's fair beauty perhaps is gone, 
Each face has a gentler chann its own; 
And his eyes so dark and her^ so blue 
Are sa\-ing sweet things, as eyes will do. 
A cook in his kitchen, she works; and bakes 
Such edible pies and toothsome cakes; 
And smiling she goes to her work each day. 
Dreaming sometimes of the faraway 
War with its changes, heartaches and tears. 
And life in camp with the \'olunteers. 
She loves him still! You can tell it fair; 
The blue eyes follow him everv-where. 
Bur they cant get married at all! Oh no! 
Such things in the Army wouldn't go! 
For he, a captain of high degree. 
Couldn't wed the child of the orderlv! 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



THE EXGIXEERS CHRISTMAS DREA3L 

The artiller\- engineer sat in his den, 

Writing away with his big stub pen. 

The "Call to Quarters" was softly sounding, 

The breakers rough on the rocks were pounding; 

His hair was unkempt and his face was gray 

With the grime of work he had done that day; 

While great spots of grease bespattered his clothes. 

And the smoke from his cigarette arose 

In pale blue rings to the girders flung. 

Where, like huge black bells, the mine cai>s hung; 

And mines recumbent and mines afloat 

Made ready for wars, near or remote. 



Bloc£ and Tackle. 





Ground Mine "A Mic^ ^;^' > 

Buoy. Crab." 



26 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



There were heaps of buoys and chains and shackles; 
Turks' heads, anchors, and blocks and tackles; 
There were hydraulic jacks and shears and jin, 
And a tank for keeping the cable in; 
There was cable enough to reach Japan 
To explode the ships of his brother man. 
It was Christmas eve! How long it had seemed, 
As he sat at his desk and dreamed and dreamed 
Of his boyhood's tree, — oh, so long ago! — 
And a stocking stuffed full from top to toe, 
With heaps of new toys so queer and so quaint 
Brought down in the night by the Christmas Saint! 
But what is that looms from the corner there ! 
Can it be a tree so huge and fair? 
And is that a stocking that hangs beside? 
He starts, and his eyes grow so big and wide ! 
No! Yes! He 'd mistaken a year or so, 
For the stocking was stuffed from top to toe 
With queer-looking things that wiggled about; 
And, yes! One was actually crawling out' 



© 



Anchor. 




Buoyant Mine, 
Small. 




With Spines All 

Over Him 
Sticking Out." 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 

"What! A mine buoy crab, oh, yes, I see!" 
He had heard there were queer things in the sea; 
Then a creature much larger crawled about. 
There were spines all over him sticking out; 
And one larger than he, with fins and scales, 
And they all had such long, thin, snaky tails! 
Then one that came crawling along the ground 
Was shaped like a gigantic biscuit round 



XLI> 



"One Larger, 
Buoyant Mine, with Fin^s and 

Large. Scales." 

And black and ugly with saucer eyes, 

While last reserved, most horrible surprise, 

Came one from whose center radiated 

Fierce, long black tentacles unsated. 

This ugly old cuttle came creeping o'er 

The edge of the stocking, dropped to the floor 

And straight for the engineer crawling came. 

While his small black eyes had a wicked flame; 

But just as a long black coil he flung out 

To enwrap his scared victim close about, 

A loud crash was heard and then sounds of glee; 

'Twas the gun and the Christmas "Reveille"! 



Keg Buoy. 




A^ 



"Was Shaped 
Lik ' a 
^ , ,,. Gigantic Biscuit 

Ground Mine. Round." 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



Awakening, our engineer saw with dismay 
He 'd slept in the storehouse till break of day. 
The torpedo materials lying about 
Were the creatures crawled from the stocking out 
And the mines with their lengthy cable tails 
Were the horrible things with fins and scales 
And with saucer eyes and such ugly shape, 
From which he was glad he had made escape; 





"His Small Black 
Distribution Eyes Had a 

Box. Wicked Fiama. " 

While the cuttle that caused him such terrible shocks 

Was only a distribution-box. 

So he crept to his quarters in time to see 

His little ones dance 'round their Christmas-tree, 

And to help their mother distribute gifts, 

Till the sunshine came in its golden rifts 

Of the Christmas morning so bright and fair, 

Dispensing peace and good-will everywhere. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. zg 



MRS. CASEY'S PROPOSAL. 

Mrs. Casey, a blonde and fair to see, 

Was in age, perhaps, some forty- three; 

From her window watched, in the trim door-yard, 

Corporal O'Grady doing old guard. 

"It 's leap year, Dennis O'Grady, see, 
Arrah, my dear! Will yez marry me?" 
The corporal can scarce believe his ears. 
As this in a full rich brogue he hears. 

Then looks toward her in meek surprise, 
Somewhat of doubt in his clear gray eyes; 
"Faith, it sure I would, and most happy be; 
But I be married already!" says he. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 31 



HUSHABYE. 

There 's a soldier's wife I know 
And her voice is sweet and low, 
As she sits her cottage nigh, 
Singing soft this lullaby 
To the baby on her knee, 
Cooing in his childish glee. 
As the rosy sunset's glow 
Lights parade and casemate row: 
"Hushabye, my baby dear, 
Soon thy daddy will be here." 

Once this woman worn was fair, 
Laughing eyes and curling hair; 
Red her cheeks with dimples set, 
And her red lips redder yet; 
Voice attuned with girlhood's glee 
Thrilling youth's glad melody. 
Tho' you can not trace a sigh 
As she sings her lullaby : 
"Hushabye, my baby dear. 
Soon thy daddy will be here." 



32 Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



Bravely on she plods each day, 

And her soldier, far away, 

Can not know how lonely she 

With the baby on her knee; 

Can not know the heart's dull ache 

In the long nights spent awake; 

Nor the agonizing pain. 

Hid beneath the lilting strain : 

"Hushabye, my baby dear, 

Soon thy daddy will be here." 

So she waits and works the while, 
Heartache hid beneath a smile. 
Not a hero in the strife. 
Braver than this soldier's wife! 
Let us hope some scattered joys 
Hide among the littered toys; 
And that consolation comes 
From the little tune she hums: 
"Hushabye, my baby dear, 
Soon thy daddv will be here!" 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



33 




THE LITTLE TOP vSERGEANT. 



Oh, there 's trouble in the quarters ! Sergeant 's mad as 'e kin be, 

An' 'e says 'at all the company 's on the bum. 

There was Privates Jones and Leary slept clean thro' "Re- 
veille," 

And two corp'rals from their passes haven't come. 

The Captain 's lookin' sidewise and pretendin' not to hear, 

As each errin' rookie takes his cussin' out; 

And the young shavetail lieutenant makes his git away from 
here 

When the angry little sergeant comes about. 



34 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



Oh, there 's music in the quarters! You kin hear a violin. 

Sergeant 's teachin' of the rookies how to dance; 
The piano is a-helpin' with its workin's from within 

You kin tell each one is happy at a glance, 
As the tall ones and the short ones, the thick ones and the thin 

Glide swiftly past upon the barrack floor; 
For the little Sergeant 's smilin' as he plays his violin, 

And everything is peaceful-like once more ! 




36 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 




\. "The fisher-boats rock Viriskly in the chilly winter night.' 

2. "Where Summer scatters thick her daisies white." 

3. "The gray ohl demilune." 

4. "The grim old walls rise upward from t'le moat." 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 37 



WINTER IN THE OLD FORT. 

It is winter in the garrison: the silver moon so bright 

Across the snowy ramparts sheds its glow; 
And old prison caves, where Summer scatters thick her daisies 
white, 

Lie half hidden 'neath a winding-sheet of snow. 

The grim old walls rise upward from the moat of times gone by, 
Where have gaily bloomed the flowers of many a June; 

While, beyond, the frowning port-holes, each a sunken, sin- 
ister eye, 
Mark the dungeons in the gray old demilune. 

The bristling guns look outward toward the twinkling harbor 
light, 

That points the pilots brave where breakers lie; 
While the fisher-boats rock briskly in the chilly winter night, 

Silhouetted dark against the frosty sky. 

Human sounds break not the stillness, save the sentry's echo 
ing tread. 

As he walks his lonely post this winter night, 
But he knows the tour's ending toward a haven fair is led, 

Where across the silence beams the barrack light. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 39 



THE BUGLER'S VALENTINE. 

The bugler wrote a valentine to Mary Ann, the cook; 

I 'd hate to speak of all his work, and all the time it took. 

There were roses all around it, and cupids by the score. 

And there must have been " I-love-you "s at least a dozen more; 

And when anon her answer came, it took him off his feet, 

He could scarcelv hold the bugle while blowing the "Retreat." 

For Mary Ann, the worldly wise, had made a valentine, 
A wondrous cake of monstrous size with candy cupids fine. 
(She knew, the minx, the pathway whereby man's heart to 

reach — 
And surely his love garden had found its growing peach !) 
The cake was stuffed with good things, the best upon the shelf, 
And then the bugler up and went and offered her — HIMSELF ! 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



LEAP YEAR ACROSTIC. 

L is Lieutenants, bachelors gruff, 
Encamped in quarters lonesome enough. 
A is the Army, a place of wrath; 
P the privileges that rank hath. 

Y for the year when ladies propose, 
Entrapping those bachelors, gruff, morose. 
And here 's to the girls — may they take this tip 
/?ank — on Leap Year — should H. I. P.* 



*"Rank hath its v)rivil?a;es." 



j 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



WHEN "DIXIE" PLAYED AT THE GARRISON BALL. 

The lights shone bright on strap and epaulette, 

On curling tress of gold and braided jet, 

On service chevrons fair, and medals won 

On gory fields for deeds of valor done. 

The music echoed wild and thnlling sweet, 

The tripping of a thousand merry feet; 

But one lone heart no lilting song had made — 

You were not there to dance when " Dixie" played. 

There many partners sought the hand to claim 

That yearned but yours, nor cared for war's proud fame 

Of added stars, or beauteous medals rare. 

But loves the simple chevron that you wear. 

And fate had called you far away that night; 

Had made for you a world most wondrous bright; 

You could not know how sad a heart was made, 

That 3^ou could not be there when "Dixie" played. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 45 



AN IMPROMPTU FOURTH 

The electrician sergeant sat alone, 
In his casemate near the sea; 
'Mid the drowsy drum 
Of the engine's hum, 
The wheels buzzed merril3\ 

'Twas the night before the glorious Fourth, 
He 'd been to the town nearby. 

And had bought enough 

Of combustible stuff 
To blow the fort sky high, 

I'hat his boys and girls might celebrate 
In the good old-fashioned way, 

And with cracker and gun 

Enjoy the fun 
Of Independence Day. 

It seemed too early for things to begin. 
Yet things were starting free, 

With a flash as bright 

As a big searchlight 
Or a comet on a spree. 

Then apparently everything started at once- 
Those pyrotechnic things 

With the fair white stars 

x\nd the crimson bars 
That patriotism brings. 



46 Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



There were Roman candles that sputtered and spat, 
Of white and red and green; 

And rockets that whizzed 

And screeched and sizzed, 
With bombs let off between. 

Then all at once a small, small boy 
Emits a joyous scream; 

And into the air 

Springs from his chair 
The sergeant from his dream. 

"Why, Daddy! What made you jump like that? 
I closed this little switch; 

When the breaker dropped 

And the lights all flopped, 
The sight was something rich! 

" Then I thought I 'd turn on the colored lights, 
Like the mine was hit, you know — 
The red and green; 
But I didn't mean 
To close the wrong switch, tho'I" 

And the father smiled as, at "Tattoo's" notes, 
He closed the casemate door; 

And soldier and son 

Made a homeward run 
To celebrate some more. 



[Courtesy "Army and Navy Life 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



47 




Liltlc Rimes oj the G'lrnsoii. 49 



A TOAST TO THE NINTH TORPEDO COMPAiW — 

Oh, we 've hauled the anchors in 

And detached the shackle pin; 
Stored the cable, mines and buoys all awav; 

And the mine caps, strung along 

On the iron girders strong, 
Hang like bells to chime the gladsome Christmas dav. 

Safe is each torpedo yawl. 

Hark ! I hear the bugle call 
To the toothsome feast and fragrant Christmas pipes ! 

Here 's a toast, dear friends, to vou 

And your uniform of blue — 
Merry Christmas 'neath the glorious Stars and Stripes! 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 51 



THE SOLDIER'S NEW YEAR. 

Fare you well, O pretty lasses! 

We have overstayed our passes, 
And we 're sure to get restricted and a fine; 

So we '11 drink another bout. 

As we watch the Old Year out, 
"O' kindliness for days o' auld lang syne." 

Where 's a hat and overcoat? 

We '11 not miss another boat, 
For the glad New Year has now replaced the Old; 

And we '11 go back with a w411. 

Do our sentence in the "mill," 
Ere our resolutions freeze out in the cold. 

For the bravest battles fought 

Are not alwavs on the spot 
Where the fiery bullets rain down far and wide ; 

But where voices from within 

Seem to urge your soul to sin. 
And your spirit wins a victory inside. 

While fierce howls the winter storm, 

In the barracks snug and warm 
Curls the fragrant smoke from many peaceful pipes; 

And the uniform of blue 

Stands for all that 's good and true. 
In the land where waves the glorious Stars and Stripes. 

[Courtesy ''Army and Navy Life.''} 



Liitli I\n)i< s of flic Garrison. 53 



WHEN "FIRE CALL" IM.OWS. 

Vou talk about the scary times on ancient battle-fields, 
Where arrows fell like pointed hail against the glitterin' shields; 
Fair memory's steed you 'd best rein in and check its ancient 

prance ; 
There 's excitement in the present, at a soldier's dance. 
If you happen to be waltzin' with your Lily or your Rose, 
You '11 change it to a quickstep 

If "Fire Call" blows. 

I remember once attending a jolly soldier hop, 

And settin' next to Sally gettin' ready for to pop 

The all-important question, when we heard the bugle blow. 

'Twas just a practice "Call to Arms," but each one had to go. 

And by the time that "Recall" blew the ball had reached 

its close; 
Rut even "Call to Arms" is tame 

When "Fire Call" blows. 



54 Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



You 're dancin' with your Tootsie "Merry Widow's" soft 

refrain, 
When all at once the bugle's sound cuts in with lusty strain; 
Uncanny notes of "Fire Call" go up your spine in creeps, 
And all the frightened wimmen folks are faintin' 'round in 

heaps! 
You beat it for the open — no livin' human's woes 
Could stop a reg'lar soldier man 

When "Fire Call" blows. 

As "Recall" sounds 3^ou run amuck a soldier, khaki-clad. 
"And did your Tootsie Wootsie faint?" you ask the stalwart 

lad. 
He gives you one long starin' look that all your courage saps — 
By the fourteen jumpin' tom-cats, there are bars upon his 

straps!* 
And like a flash you fade away, to go back and propose; 
Explain to Sally why you git 

When "Fire Call" blows 



* "Bars upon his straps." A soldier may not aldress an officsr except officially, 
and by permission of his sergeant. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



55 




Little l\iu]('<^ oj the (i<irn\'(>n. 57 



PLANTIN' MINES. 
(A Toast to the Ninth Mine Company, C. A. C.) 



We 've soldiered in artillery, both in the field and coast, 
Tho' I ain't much on braggin' and hate to make the boast. 
We 've hit ihe road some lively with horse and caisson too, 
And with a twelve-inch coast gun we 've bored some targets 

thro'; 
But it ain't to praise the big guns I 've written these few lines. 
But to toast the Ninth (Mine) Company and its 

Plantin' mines. 



It 's early in the summer-time, that 's when the fun begins, 
And keeps you steppin' lively till you wish yourself was twins; 
And \ou hustle out the vawl-l)oats, notin' of the water's looks, 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



Get your mines and buoys and anchors, cable coils and sister 

hooks, 
As you wait the tide incomin', then to each his work assigns; 
But it 's often strenuous business when you 're 

Plantin' mines. 



You 're aboard the big mine-planter and the wave 5 are runnin' 
high ; 

You get just the least bit seasick, wonderin' if you 're goin' 
to die; 

And your brain gets somewhat tangled and you lose your old- 
time spunk, 

And you wonder what in thunder is the use of all this junk; 

But you 've 'listed for your country to protect its vast confines, 

Even if you heave up Jonah while you 're 

Plantin' mines. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 59 



Now you realize in winter-time when outdoor work i^, done, 
x\nd you see a cleaner wrestlin' with the snow on some big gun ; 
When you 're gathered in December 'round the gala festal 

board, 
That for joys of this same season, you can very well afford 
To spend the fleetin' summer-time with ropes and heavin' hues. 
To the Ninth a Merry Christmas afte 

Plantin' mines! 



Little Runes of the (nirrisoii. 



6 1 








JAttle Rimes of the Garrison. 63 



"MESS CALL." 

I love to hear the bugle call. Its silvery notes so clear 
Seem always like a lovin' voice a-callin' in my ear. 
But that ain't so of "Reveille." It busts my sleep in two; 
And "Drill Call" gets so tiresome! I like to hear "Tattoo,' 
And "Recall" 's a prime favorite, but it ain't hard to guess 
The call that I love most of all — 

It 's "Soupie," known a:? "]\Iess'' 



Perhaps vour drillin' rookies green ! You 'd love to turn \m in ' 
You 've drilled and sweat and cussed a streak, and then begun 

again, 
And faced 'em 'round and faced 'em back, and ordered "For- 
ward march !" 
You wished they 'd ginger up a bit and get a little starch, 
But like a worn-out dish-rag each is slouching more or less; 
Tho' rookies learn one thing right quick, 

And that 's the call "To Mess." 



64 IaUIc Rimes of the Garrison. 



It 's queer how soldiers kick on mess! You 'd think 'em skin 

and bones 
And dvin' with the tumm}^-ache to hear their growls and groans 
If Captain also buys his grub from out the company store, 
Thev '11 swear he gets the outside fruit and leaves them but 

the core. 
Oh yes! the cook gets knocked on too, and even I confess. 
For double pay I wouldn't be 

The STEWARD of that mess! 

The non-coms don't escape their share, and each one gets a rap; 
So when the kitchen you pohce, just do it up with snap; 
Be sure thev ain't no angle-worms or centipedes or bugs 
A-lurkin' in the vegetables! Be sure to peel the spuds; 
And when above the army range to fix the hre you stoop. 
Don't scatter coal and cinders in the pot of army soup. 
And hel]nn' thus to make things right, your comrades all will 

bless 
The soldier and musician man 

Who wrote that call "To Mess." 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 65 



"OVERCOATS!" 

Whene'er I hear "First Call" a-sounding, 
Its echoes sweet and clear resounding 
Through the crispy, wintry atmosphere, 
From out the bugle's golden throat, 
There 's something missing in its note, 
Unless attached unto its ending 
These bars the morning frosts a-rending : 

"Overcoats! Overcoats! Overcoats!" 

Sometimes it 's "Guard Mount," "First Call" warning, 
So clear and freezing cold the morning! 
iVnd the soldiers all, both young and old. 
Unmindful of the ice afloat, 
Within the grim old fortress' moat. 
Are listening for the strain that 's ending. 
Upon this chilly day befriending: 

"Overcoats! Overcoats! Overcoats!" 

Perhaps "Retreat," First Call" arousing 
From "bunk fatigue" so sweet a-drowsing; 
The soldier springs upon his feet. 

As breaking through his dreams remote 
He hears the "First Call's" lusty note. 
And listens close to hear its ending, 
These added chords a sweet charm blending: 

"Overcoats! Overcoats! Overcoats!" 



<i. 



Litile Rimes oj the Gatrtson. 67 



FORTRESS MONROE. 

A grim old fortress stands beside the sea, 
It tells of valiant deeds to you and me; 

Of great ironclads contendng 

In a battle tierce, and ending 
For our nation in a glorious victory. 

This grim old fortress tales of labor knows; 

Of weary slaves that worked through suns and snows. 

Toiled like Pharaoh's slaves of old. 

Built the bastions strong and bold, 
That they might withstand a nation's million foes. 

O fortress gray ! Beneath thy ivied towers, 
Magnolia-scented, moonlit fairy bowers, 

Where tiny fledgling sparrows sleep. 

There lovers true their vigils keep. 
The Southern night wreathes magic in her hours! 

O fortress brave ! O sentry grim and bold ' 

A nation's honor hast thou in thy hold; 

And freedmen brave, the minions' sons, 
Shall help to man thy bristling guns, 

Or die beneath thv banner's crimson fold! 



Little Rimes of the Garrison 69 



THE SOLDIER'S FAREWELL. 

Comrade, farewell; 'tis here the parting lies! 
Though distance may not sever friendship's ties. 
To-morrow's gun booms out the "Reveille"; 
The sun beams cold across the wintry sea; 
The sweet-voiced bugle's notes a discord play, 
Since you are going, comrade, far away. 

To-morrow's "Guard Mount" finds not all in place. 
Gone from the ranks is one familiar face. 
So at "Retreat's" formation you are missed, 
The flag swift lowered, by the sunset kissed. 
Floats downward toward the rosy-colored bay, 
Where rock the fisher-boats at close of day. 

The "Tattoo's" golden notes ring sweet and clear; 
The barrack lights are out, you are not here; 
The "Call to Quarters" blows, and faint and far 
The moonlight falls across the harbor bar; 
Your empty bunk a tale of parting tells, 
And "Taps" is calling softly last farewells. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. yi 



CHARACTER "FAIR." 

Have pity, O judges! Don't kick him out yet 
Let him have one more chance to reform ! 
'For the way is most rough, 
And the times pretty tough 
To turn him adrift in Hfe's storm. 

And you, whose pathway in this journev here 
In Hfe's pleasant places is set, 

May not judge him full fair, 

Who was born to life's care. 
With its endless worries and fret. 

You say many previous convictions he 's had 
And the service's custom says, "Go!" 

Yes, go, man! But where? 

To fall deep in sin's snare. 
Stain darker his soul in his woe ! 

Enlist him once more for the flag that he loveit 
And be sure he '11 make good and reform; 
For the way is most rough, 
And the times pretty tough; 
Don't turn him adrift in life's storm! 



Little Rimes of the Gam son. 73 



SALLY AND THE SENTRY. 

Sweet Sally by the window stands, some dainty china washing; 
The ice gems on the window-panes bright sunset jewels 

flashing; 
The Sentry goes his evening rounds adown the snowy alley, 
And coming past the window, smiles and doffs his cap to Sally. 
Sweet Sally's eyes are hazel-browm, her dark hair soft and 

shining, 
With saucy ringlets hanging down about her small ears twining 
Her smile it sparkles like the sun on frostwork passementerie.. 
And true love's ways quite smoothly run 

For Sally and the Sentry. 

The Sentry's shoulder broad and strong his burnished gun up- 
holding, 

With overcoat of olive drab and cartridge-belt enfolding; 

His keen grav eyes look brightly out 'neath cap so warm and 
furry; 

While strav some wavy locks about, wdiite-flecked with snow- 
flakes' flurry. 

He 's trim and neat and snug and warm, while SaUy's smile 
so cheery 

Has made him happy as a king, despite the winter dreary. 

That kitchen is enchanted land, that window, port of entry. 

And youth the beach's shining strand, 

For Sallv and the Sentrv. 



74 Little Rimes oj the Garrison. 



He walks his rounds with tireless feet, nor heeds the darkness 

gloomy ; 
The ^hade drawn baek, a bright light shines from out the 

kitehen roonn ; 
A song lloats out u])on the night in sweet-voiced music ringing; 
The soldier dreams of childhood bright and mother's voice 

a -singing; 
And Sally knows that shortly now the vSentry's tour is over, 
And thro' the frosty window-pane takes sly peeps at her lover; 
And even in your high estate, among the "landed gentry," 
Vou 're half a mind to envy her — 

Sweet Sallv and her vSentrv 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 75 



SERGEANT DAVE. 

He ain't no ladies' pet, Dave ain't; 

And I don't guess Dave 's any saint. 

He 's sporty some, 'twixt you and me, 

And likes a good prize-fight to see. 

A soldier Dave is, thro' and thro', 

And I am sure no suit of blue 

E'er held a nobler form than his; 

Altho' the scale goes out o' biz 

When Dave gets on. His hair 's some gray 

His eyes are blue as skies o' May. 

If you should meet misfortune grave, 
A friend in need you '11 find in Dave. 
But if you 've got a yellow streak, 
Don't plav no games o' hide and seek 
With Dave. He 's full up to the brim 
O' cuteness. No shell game works him. 
He 's married, yes! A model, too, 
O' husbands; which ain't always true 
O' soldiers. Being used to roam, 
They don't take much to cares o' home. 



76 Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



His rank? He 's canteen sergeant. Yes, 

He 'U stay his thirty years, I guess; 

And when his time down here is spent, 

With character writ "Excellent," 

He seeks above to re-enlist. 

Old Peter jubt can not resist; 

So, having looked the veteran o'er 

A-comin' toward the golden shore. 

He calls across the waters dark, 

'Fore Dave has time to disembark 

On Heaven's side the Stygian wave: 

"Come on! We 're waitin' for ye, Dave! 



I Attic Rimes of the Garrison. 77 

THE REGULAR ARMY WIFE. 



There 's a song for the General, gray and grave. 

With his campaign successfully planned; 
There 's a song for the Colonel and Major brave, 

And the Captains of their command; 
For the young Lieutenant just starting in. 

And for Sergeant and Corporal, too; 
And thousands of Regular Army m.en 

Are passing in grand review: 
But there 's never a song for the battles won 

Afar from the war's red strife; 
Nor a wTcath of laurel for brave deeds done 

By the Regular Army Wife. 

Oh, who shall weave her the victor's wreath 

As she sits with her babes to-night? 
For her country's warriors shall fear not death 

While she keeps its hearthfires bright; 
Tho' she may not follow the Stripes and Stars, 

She can toil 'neath their loving folds; 
And the making of heroes of future wars 

In her willing hands she holds. 
She may never brandish a gleaming sword. 

In the thick of the gory strife; 
And Congress no medal to her awards. 

The Reo^ular Armv Wife! 



78 Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



But 'tis hers to do what each day shall bring, 

With a heart that is made of steel; 
And at night her lullaby-song to sing, 

No griefs shall her soul reveal; 
And tho' there is dearth of added stars 

And medals and wreaths of bay; 
Tho' she may not follow him off to the wars, 

She can stay in his home and pray ! 
And her medal of honor the words "Well done! 

And her laurels a crown of life. 
With its stars for the deeds of valor done 

By the Regular Army Wife: 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



79 



A BUM BUGLER. 

A bugler once tried to bugle "Tattoo." 

The bugle was old, but the bugler was new; 

The troops were encamped in a wild sylvan glade, 

And the echoes played tag with the discord it made. 

The Colonel, a jolly old cavalry file. 

Thought "vS tables" was blowing; aroused with a smile, 
Turned sleepily over, and murmured, "I guess 
That bugler 's been drinking again, more or less." 

A veteran captain, who 'd heard war's alarms. 

Sprang into his trousers and yelled out, "To Arms!" 

The sky-pilot, robed in pajamas of white. 

Said, "Why 's that blank 'Church Call' a-blowing to-night.? 

The medico, late from a man that had snakes. 
Thinks "Sick Call" is blowing, and suddenly wakes 
And utters some swear-words — I fear eight or ten — 
And vows he 'lows Grady has got 'em again. 

A shavetail lieutenant, just out of the Point, 
With chills in his gizzard and aches in each joint, 
Thinks "Mess Call" is blowing, and suddenly shoots 
Full out of his blankets and into his boots. 



8o /,////(• Iximcs of the (uirrison. 



Top sergeant rolled out, as a deluge splashed o'er, 
And snatched up his blankets from out of the pour, 
As a corporal near him thought "Fire Call" blew, 
And would fain quench the blaze with a bucket or two. 

Then a man just turned in from his quarterly spree 

F'ell out of his blankets and cursed "Reveille"; 

While a rook,^ just enlisted, with thoughts homeward bent, 

Thought sure 'twas the "General "f and pulled down his tent. 

In the mean time the bugler that caused the uproar 
Went back to the guard-tent and bugled once more; 
And tried, as he smoothed his curly red pate. 
To think what had kicked up the rumpus so great. 

But the regiment's baby, a few tents away. 

Snugged closer to mother to sleepily say : 

"What 's 'at call, mother dear, a-sounding such noise? 

I sh'd think thev 'd know better 'n to wake little boys!" 

But mother says, "Hush-a-bye, baby dear, do! 

It 's just a bum bugler a-blowing 'Tattoo'. " 

[Courtesy JAppincott Co.] 



*Ronk, recruit. 

tThe "General" is blown wIilmi camp is broken 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 8i 



THE PASSING OF THE TRANSPORT. 

THE LAST NIGHT IN CAMP. 

The silver starlight softly filters down 
Upon the white walls of the tented town; 
The "Tattoo's" note the golden bugle tells, 
It echoes through the nooks and fairy dells 
Till rocked upon the sands by ocean's tide 
It falls to sleep within the waters wide. 
The sentry makes his rounds with tireless feet, 
With "Who is there?" each passer-by to greet. 
He brings his gun to "port" as straps he spies, 
And then to a "present" they pass him by. 
He does not see a dignified salute; 
Resumes his lonesome vigil all so mute. 
Behind him looms a rosy Kansas morn, 
With crimson fruit and "walls of golden corn" 
Before him rolls the great Pacific wide, 
And fate's dark curtain veils the other side. 
Within the lights are out, the only lamp 
The soft moon-rays that fall upon the camp. 
Ah! well for those the "Taps" be softly given, 
Who wake to hear their "Reveille" in heaven. 



82 Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



THE PASSIxXG OF THE TR AN SPURT. 

The morning sunlight kissed the glowing bay, 

Smiled on the purple hilltops far away; 

Dried every sail aflap in morning breeze, 

In port at last afar from stormy seas. 

The Army transport lies in waiting, trim 

And snowy white, like some huge bird to skim 

From shore to shore across the ocean's foam 

To carry heroes far from love and home. 

The last good-byes arc said; a plashing sound, 

vShe pushes olT and slowlv turns around; 

And mothers', wives' and sweethearts' eyes grow dim 

With straining for one dear last glance of him. 

With tide and stream the ship is under way 

And sails with cheers and music down the bav; 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 83 



Passed Alcatraz, the lonely prison pile, 
And barracks trim on sunny Angel Isle, 
And grim Fort Point with frowning walls of gray 
That ever guard the entrance to the bay. 
Awhile the sun glints down the golden west 
And sinks to sleep within the ocean's breast, 
And soft rose curtains drape his couch of state, 
The troop-ship glides outside the Golden Gate. 
The evening mists come down upon the sea; 
The evening winds are blowing wild and free; 
The shores of home grow faint in gathering night, 
With Cliff House but a shadow on the height. 
Across the waves from trough to snowy crest. 
The transport takes her way toward the west, 
And in the distance growing faint and dim. 
Has vanished o'er the ocean's misty rim. 



84 Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



THE RETURN OF THE REGIMENT. 

A weary watcher gazes o'er the bay; 
The sea-birds with the white waves are at play; 
The sun is setting. Like a golden wedge 
It hangs between the sky and ocean's edge. 
The stars come out; the sea-birds gone to sleep, 
Night's stillness reigns upon the waters deep. 
The transport Tartar steers toward the lee, 
Her prow emblazoned with gilded heraldry; 
And those escaped the cunning Tagal's hate 
Again are passing through the Golden Gate; 
And as they enter through its portals wide, 
Once more with loved and kindred to abide, 
A kindly thought is sent across the wave 
To comrades resting in a foreign grave. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



There 's one has lost a brother in the strife. 

And one a nearer comrade, his young wife, 

Who followed bravely where war's fortune led, 

No more the loved soil of home to tread; 

And two brave youths a father's deeds will tell 

To her who waits at home, and loved him well. 

Some are relating how through swamp and fen 

A leader cheered his little band of men 

Until, the fiery Tagals faced at last, 

He sank to earth, his life-blood ebbing fast. 

The twilight gently wears itself away, 

The good ship rides at anchor in the bay, 

And from the land the boats come out to greet. 

Like welcoming children gathering 'round her feet. 

Home! Home at last! How sweet the words must be 

To those returned from far across the sea ! 

Our nation's flag is planted in the Hast, 



86 Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



And like a mother is her love increased. 

A little one is added to her flock : 

Her arms must shield, the centuries' cradle rock. 

And shall she then forsake this sacred trust, 

Allow her cannon peace, her sword to rust? 

Ah, no! Old Glory, when once hoisted there, 

Shall ever float in morning breezes fair ! 

No hand irreverent touch her radiant stars, 

Nor tint to deeper hue her crimson bars; 

But, planted by a nation's blood and tears. 

Shall there remain throughout time's endless years! 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 87 



ENCAMPED. 

Oh, the tents lie white 'neath the starlit skies, 

With the kiss of their silv'ry beam, 
As the night wind utters his tender sighs, 

And passes adown the stream. 
There are many on mirth and on revel bent; 
There is one who sits in the Captain's tent. 
Alone encamped. 

There 's a heart that must follow the soldier's fare 
In the camp where the moonlight peeps, 

Where an angel watches with holy care 
The loved one while he sleeps. 

In the midnight watch he is not alone, 

For the heart that must follow, still his own, 
Is there encamped. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 89 



'•STUB'S" REQUEST. 

"Don't play no 'Taps' above my grave, 

Said "Stub," the orderly. 
"When you plant me, I want it done 

To the sound of ' Reveille. ' 
"Thus doing my last bunk fatigue, 

Old Glory close wrapped o'er, 
Athro' my dreams the bugle calls: 

'I can't get 'em up' — no more." 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 91 



FROM A PRIVATE JOLONEL. 

There once was an old Army colonel, 
Whose wit was a well-spring etolonel; 
. But for those who would shirk 
From their authorized work 
His language was something infolonel ! 



SOME LOvST CHEVRONS. 

There once was a corp'ral much trusted, 
Whose morals became somewhat rusted, 

Who on one fateful night 

Threw a cat at the light, 
And now that poor corp'ral is busted.* 



* Busted— 'i. e , deprived of hin stripes. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 93 



A SLIGHT MISTAKE. 
In New York, a soldier named Bisco, 
Bent on re-enlistment in his Co., 
• Awoke aboard ship 
On a war-hunting trip; 
He 'd 'listed Marine, out in Frisco! 



LEFT BEHIND. 

There was once known a soldier to brag on. 

How he St. George could fight, or the Dragon 
But his boat sailed away. 
Left him there that cold day; 

With his beautiful red and green jag on! 

(Then he rode in the "hurry-up" wagon.) 



Link Rimes of the Garrison. 



95 



IN THE MINE COMPANY. 

Young Lieut. McPherson Van Tyne 
Sat down on a new loaded mine. 

Said he, "By my whittle, 

I '11 rock it a little." 
No caisson and flags for Van Tyne. 



OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF DANGER. 

"Aha!" sneered a Thanksgiving turkey, 
And held up his head very perky; 

As a soldier he spied, 

With a gun by hisside, 
"I '11 beat it. The prospect looks murkv!" 



Little Rimts of the Garrison. 07 



DISCOVERED. 

There once was a prisoner who fain 
His freedom once more would regain ; 
So he cut out his way 
Thro' the guard-house one day, 
And he now sports a ball and a chain. 



THE FATE OF O'SHANNON. 

There once .was a rookie, O'Shannon, 
Who looked down the mouth of a cannon; 
But that cannon was fired, 
And the gunners, tho' tired, 
Still hunt souvenirs of O'Shannon. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



99 



REJECTED. 

A soldier once had an affinity 

For a wondrously fair young divinity 

But she in her store 

Had lovers galore, 
And told him to go to— infinitv ! 



ASLEEP AT THE SWITCH (BOARD 

There was a casemate electrician 
Came off pass in a state of contrition; 
And so nearly he dozed 
As the wrong switch he closed, 
He is now staying with his physician. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison 



lO] 



DOING TIME. 

In April a soldier named Ober 
Was chucked in the mill to get sober; 
At some passing recruits 
Threw a rock and his boots; 
His time will be up in October 



"OVER THE HILL." 

There was once in the service a gunner, 
At hitting the target a stunner; 
But after a lark, 
Hit a four-masted barque. 
And has Since proved a very good runner. 

[Courtesy Judge Co.] 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 103 



THE SPRINT OF THE SPRINTER. 

There once was a soldier, a sprinter, 
Who caught his big toe on a spHnter; 

Now the words of that sprint 

Would not do to print 
In the printed print of the printer. 



MAROONED. 

There once was a colonel named Harrison 
vSent out to command a small garrison; 

Now they say he did roast 

That small island Post 
With adjectives slow of comparison. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 105 



DISAPPOINTED. 



There were once some rookies expected 
At a garrison sadly neglected, 

But those rooks didn't come, 
And now everyone 's glum 
As a gravestone that 's newly erected. 



RESCUED. 

A wreck of a soldier named Teddy 
Once slipped from his moorings unsteady, 
From the dock a fall took. 
Was fished up with a hook, 
And for new sorts of stunts is now readv. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 107 



RIGHTEOUSLY INDIGNANT. 

There once was a sergeant named Aaron, 
Who wasn't addicted to swearon' ; 
But when rookies paraded 
With mien worn and jaded, 
Then Aaron was rearon' and tearon'. 



HER REASON. 

Went Mildred to the Philippines 

With Uncle Doctor Jay, 
And cholera being bad that year, 

The wee one might not play 
With small brown pickaninnies, 

Or touch the fruit so fair, 
Or anything unsterilized, 

Lest dread disease lurked there. 
''Why don't you play with native kids 9" 

Her uncle's friend advised. 
"/ tan't," said Mildred, '' p'ay wif 'em, 

Tause 'ey We not sterilized!" 
[Courtesy "Army and Navy Life."] 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



109 



^-^m 




"When Sergeant Joe goes on parade. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. iii 



WHEN SERGEANT JOE GOES ON PARADE. 

When Sergeant Joe goes on parade, 
With buttons bright and golden braid, 
Of service chevrons shining fair, 
And medals almost everywhere, 
And sergeant major's sword so fine, 
He stands a little from the line — 
Oh! he 's most beautifully arrayed, 
When Sergeant Joe goes on parade. 

When Sergeant Joe goes on parade. 
Just as the day begins to fade, 
"Retreat" is sounded soft and slow; 
Then you must stop your play, you know, 
Stand at attention while the flag 
(No matter if you 're playing tag) 
Is hauled down, then go where you played, 
When Sergeant Joe goes on parade. 



Litile Rimes of the Garrison. 



13 




A GARRISON LULLABY 



Bye-o, sweet baby, thy father 's a soldier. 

"Tattoo^' has long blown and the lights are grown dim 
Oo to sleep, darling, the white stars are watching. 

The bright lamps of Heaven kept burning bv Him 
Who cares for my dearie, tho' war's devastation 

Makes powerful nations to tremble and fall. 
Hush-a-bye, baby, thy mother is near thee ; 

The bugle thy daddy "To Quarters" will call. 



J 14 Little Rimes of the Garrison. 

Oh, list to the voice of the gold-throated bugle! 

Its last call sobbed out on the swift-ebbing tide, 
Thy cradle a dream-boat soft rocks to its cadence; 

Bright angels to guard thee are e'er at thy side. 
Sleep on, little soldier, and may life's "Taps" find the 

Safe guarding thy country from enemies' hate, 
And Heaven's own bugle thy "Reveille" calling. 

Thy Captain to wx-lcome within its fair gate! 



"m^m 





^.T 



Litttle Rimes of the Gar 



rison. 



115 




1. Prison sentry doiiiK jiuurd. 

2. "Just the guard-hou^e cat." 

3. Military guard-hou^e with sentries. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison 



117 



GUARD-HOUvSE TOM. 

Guard-house Tom is grim and gra}', 
I 'm sure he 's been there many a day; 
And he 's a scrapper, that I know, 
Because I 've seen him fighting so! 
Oh, my! such swear- words he did use! 
No one could stand for such abuse; 
And it was such an awful fight, 
I 'm sure Tom saw some stars all right. 

And Tom 's a thief, I hate to say. 
He stole some fish and ran away 
From children fishing on the dock. 
I fear we '11 need a stronger lock. 
Or increased sentries doing guard. 
For Tom each day gets still more hard ; 
Tho' no one seems to care for that, 
For Tom is just the guard-house cat. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



119 



^E'^r^^rs 




t^^^^ 



1. "For Sis there "s fiolis." 

2. "The things I' d wished I had." 

3. ''Christmas ends upon that post." 

4. "First call." 

5. "The Band comes 'round at 'Reveille'." 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 121 



CHRISTxAIAS ON THE GARRISON. 

When Christmas comes to Army posts, 
We have such fun, just hosts and hosts ! 
We get up early when we hear 
"First Call" a-sounding loud and clear; 
And dress so quickly, 'cause, you see, 
The Band comes 'round at "Reveille." 

And while we 're getting on our clothes. 
Daddy goes down stairs, 'cause he knows 
That pretty soon 's a race to see 
Him light the candles on that tree. 
Then we come down and IMother dear, 
She smiles, says, "Santa has been here!" 

We know he has. but it 's a draw, 

That Santa is your Ma and Pa. 

Oh, it 's such fun to get your things! 

For Sis there 's dolls and chains and rings, 

Some soldier toys for Brother Ad; 

For me the things I 'd wished I had. 

And then all day we play — and fight, 
I 'm afraid, a little 'fore it 's night! 
And by the time that "Tattoo" blows. 
Your head it just so sleepy grows. 
You topple over then, almost; 
And Christmas ends, upon that post. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 




'My Da<l y is a Cap'ain.* 




He can do the love- 
liest stunts." 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 125 



AN ARMY TOT'S SOLILOQUY. 

I 'm most grown up ! I 'ni six to-day, 
And I 've a sweetheart — Corporal Ray. 
He is eighteen, would you believe? 
And wears a chevron on his sleeve! 
He has a gunner's medal, too, 
Pinned on his coat of Army blue; 
And he can do the loveliest stunts! 
He won a prize for jumping once! 

My daddy is a Captain, yes! 
And he 's most six feet tall, I guess! 
When Corp'ral Ray 's that tall, perhaps 
He '11 wear some lovely shoulder-straps. 
And sleeves with braid in curly rows. 
It 's leap year, so I '11 just propose, 
And soon as he 's a Colonel, he 
Will wear a sword, and marry me! 

[Co2irtesy "Army and Navy Life."] 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



127 




ENVIRONMENT. 

"What are you playing, dear?" I asked 

The Captain's tiny son. 
One wee hand carried rake and hoe, 

And one a small toy gun. 

"Why don't you know?" he said, and smiled 
With quaint and childish charm, 

"To-day I 'm playing that I am 
Lieutenant of a farm." 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 




1. ^aultln tlirc. a casfcin ate window " 
•T" ..^o">« times the moat has fish in." 
o. In the torpedo yawls." 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 131 



THE PROVO'.* 

If you 're livin' in the Army and your Pa 's a soldier man, 

You may sometime have a casematef for a home 
In the walls of some old fortress built upon the castle plan, 

And there 's miles and miles of rooms where boys can roam. 
And sometimes the moat has fish in, like the one at Ft. Monroe 

From your bedroom window you a line may cast; 
But this pleasure is forbidden by the "Old Man," the K. O.J 

And the Provo' 's goin' to get you 

If you don't run fast! 



For there 's typhoid in them fishes, in the oysters and the crabs; 

And the Provo' 's watching everywhere for you, 
And you can't escape that sergeant when he makes a start and 
grabs 
Right where you expect him not to do. 
One time he caught us swingin' in some new-hung window 
frames. 
And for just a minute stood and stared aghast; 
Then the cuss-words 'at he uttered would have matched the 
bluest flames, . 
And you bet he almost got us, 

But we run so fast ! 



*Provo Sergeant — Police Sergeaut. 

tCasemate — Rofims in walls of fort. 

jThe K. O. — Commanding Officer, familiarly known as the "Old Man. 



132 Little Rimes of the Gat ri son. 



And one time u])on the ramparts we were playin' in some tar, 

With our hands and arms about as black as sin. 
And that bloomin' Provo' saw us from the (:^uard-house door 
afar. 
My! He scared me so 'at time 'at I fell in; 
And the words 'at Ma and Pa said, and the nurse 'at cleaned 
me up, 
As she greased, and scraped, and washed and scrubbed, and 
sassed, 
Would have filled to runnin' over of ha])piness the cup 
Of that Provo' man 'at gets you. 

If vou don't run fast ! 



And one time I pasted papers on llie milky, silky feet 

Of the Missus K. O.'s Persian Thomas cat. 
And the yowling oi that feline, as the bugle blew "Retreat" 

Made me wonder where that Provo' Sergeant 's at. 
Gee! He almost nabbed me 'at time as I beat it down the road, 

X'aultin' thro' a casemate window as I ]oassed, 
Buttin' in the K. O.'s stryker* and upsettin' all his load, 

And that Provo' nearly had me. 

But I run too fast ! 



♦Stryker — A soldier employed as a strvant. 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 133 



So I 'm longin' for vacation, with its misty summer sky, 

And the thousand goodly stunts 'at I can do; 
For there 's divin' and there 's swimmin' from torpedo yawls 
nearby. 

We must surely show that Provo' sumpin' new. 
For he 's takin' life too easy as he drives them prisoners out, 

And he needs some fresh amusements 'at will last. 
Like a-chasin' kids from mischief in the casemates 'round about; 

And a-makin' like to mill 'em, * 

If thev don't run fast! 



*"Mill 'em" — Put them in the guard-house. 



lAttle Rimes of the Garrison. 135 



THE RECRUIT. 
To Robert Warrkn Love, the Sergeant's Baby. 

Have you heard about the last recruit, 

That 'listed t' other day? 
He isn't very big. I 'm 'fraid 

He '11 scarcely draw his pay. 
He 's good at doing bunk fatigue 

And kicking, too, I guess, 
But, unlike other soldiers, he 

Don't kick about the mess. 
The ladies think he 's just as sweet, 

And call him "Dear" and "Dove"! 
Indeed, he must be Cupid's own, 

Because his name is Love! 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



137 




THE BABY BUGLER. 

He awakens when "Reveille" heralds the morn, 
And he blows all the calls on his little tin horn. 
The men call him "Buster," and 'most every day 
With Daddy he goes to the barracks to play. 



To attend all formations his duty he feels. 
And he comes to attention and cracks his small heels. 
And with ringlets uncovered clasps cap to his breast, 
x\s "Retreat" booms salute to the sun in the west. 



138 



Little Rimes of the Garrison. 



And the flag is swift lowered ; still statue-like stands 
Till the last note is sounded ; then waves his small hands 
And, calling his dog, how they race o'er parade. 
And make good for the couple of minutes that strayed ! 

Then back to his quarters where motherling keeps 
A watch, as her baby boy quietly sleeps. 
And the lady moon peeps o'er the ramparts so grim 
And the "Tattoo" sounds faintlv his lullabv hvmn. 




Little Rimes of the Garrison. 139 



FINIS. 



Good-bye, little Comrade ! We ' ve met and we 've parted ; 

Together we 've read them, these garrison rimes. 
They ' ve harked to our music, the brave, the true-hearted , 

And cheered with their praises our efforts betimes. 

Good-bye, little Comrade! The bugle calls sweetly. 

We 've mingled our heart-thoughts — the laughter and 
tears; 
The moments unnoted still passing so fleetly, 

The waves of the tide of the outgoing years. 

Good-bye, little Comrade! The bugle, still sounding, 

Calls each to our duty a separate way; 
The mists of uncertainty ofttimes surrounding 

The love and the valor and truth of to-day. 

Good-bye — and mayhap some far garrison find us 
With glad hearts attuned to the new rimes we write; 

The filmy mists risen, adrift far behind us; 

The bugle soft crooning the "Taps" and Good-night! 






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